


Lie To Them (But Not To Me.)

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [16]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Anon prompt on tumblr!"How about some Caleb/Molly about anti-tiefling prejudice?"





	Lie To Them (But Not To Me.)

**Author's Note:**

> "Heyyy if ur still looking for prompts, how about some Caleb/Molly about anti-tiefling prejudice. Molly seems like the type who isn’t easily bothered, but everyone breaks now and again. Maybe Molly allows Caleb to actually help with emotional turmoil, even if he feels like he has to keep up the cheerful act around the others? Gosh that got long, sorry!"
> 
> I am always looking for prompts, friends, because sometimes I can't think of anything for the prompts I have.  
> Hmu on tumblr (Mollymockerytealeaf)
> 
> Additionally, if you like my work, you can support me by commenting, kudos-ing, sharing, or [buying me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/cecilantro)!

Caleb has started paying meticulous attention to Mollymauk, especially when he thinks that nobody is looking.  
The group, as a whole, annoys Caleb a fair bit if he’s being honest.  
That isn’t to say he isn’t now attached to them. They all have ups and downs. Beau and Jester have more downs than ups, but both have saved his ass, or at least tried to, and he owes them a debt through his dislike of their various personality traits.  
Yasha he finds… not interesting, but relatable, a natural kinship of social awkwardness that lightens him to her.  
Fjord and Molly are the only ones that seem to understand Caleb, though, in differing and important ways. Fjord, standing to repeat and emphasise Caleb’s thoughts and feelings, and Mollymauk holding himself to them. Two very different kinds of support, both greatly appreciated and recieved. He hopes and wishes he can repay them.  
Fjord, he hopes, he will be able to impart some arcane knowledge onto, or at least, some knowledge in general. Anything to help him along with his application to Soltryce. That is Fjord’s goal, and that makes it Caleb’s goal, for as long as they travel together.  
Molly, however, Caleb can’t find faults in. Or couldn’t, past tense. A constant obnoxious, confident air, caring, even for criminals and miscreants. Caring, for Caleb. Everything. The kiss on his forehead, hauling him away after the manticore, the way Caleb caught him cursing himself under his breath for letting him go down when they were ambushed on the road.  
People stare at him. It’s not unusual, he’s dressed so extravagantly, and Caleb gets the feeling that it’s not just a circus thing.  
He’s watching Molly in the reflection of his glass as he stands and smooths his coat, heads to the bar to order a new drink. When the bartender turns away, Caleb sees his shoulders drop. It’s something he’s observed a few times since he started watching Molly’s behaviour, when he thinks nobody is looking. It’s a private moment, Caleb feels bad about intruding, and is teetering on the brink of a self-hatred spiral when he notices something else.  
Molly raises a hand to his cheek and swipes, both ways, quickly, as the bartender turns. He’s handed his drink, a dwarven figure a few feet away shoots him a disgusted look and Molly glances back, Caleb watches him pull his shoulders up and back, proud again. He turns away from them, back to the group, and Caleb watches the dim reflection of Molly give a sigh, then pull his face into his signature easy grin.  
He rejoins the group, taking his seat next to Caleb, and the wizard eyes his hands. There’s two wet streaks on the back of his right hand. And Molly is looking at him as though _he_ is worried about _Caleb_ . Molly leans in, slightly.  
“Are you okay?” He asks, and Caleb meets his eyes. Considers his options.  
“Can we talk? In private?” He says before he’s really decided, and this seems to surprise Molly. He nods, and leans in the other direction to mutter to Jester, who nods at him. Molly stands and quickly drains the three-quarter full glass he has, nods to the table, and looks to Caleb.  
Caleb stands. Molly heads toward the stairs to the inn rooms, and Caleb follows him. Jester covers their bold escape with an excited ramble about her mother.  
Molly leads Caleb to the room he’s sharing with Nott and waits for him to unlock the door and push it open for him.  
“Thank you.” Molly nods, and Caleb follows him in. The door closes behind him.  
Molly sits on Caleb’s bed, doesn’t need to ask to know which one it is, since there’s a book laid beside the pillow end with such precision it’s parallel. Caleb paces.  
“Sit down, Caleb.” Molly says, and it’s a gentle command. More of a suggestion. Caleb looks at him for a moment, pausing mid-stride  and hovering with the heel of one foot on the floor next to the flat of the other. He spins on that heel and moves to the bed instead.  
“You wanted to talk?” Molly suggests, trying to press him.  
“Are _you_ okay?” Is what comes out of Caleb’s mouth, and for the second time that evening, Molly is shocked to silence. He calms and recollects,  
“Of course, I’m worried for you, though. You haven’t been quite right since the fight.”  
Caleb knows what he’s referring to, and he feels the hairs on his arms raise at the threat of a memory. His fingers clench, inadvertent. Molly watches.  
“You were crying, earlier, at the bar.” It’s a gentle accusation, and Molly’s eyes grow wide. He stutters through what Caleb assumes are denials, and Caleb takes his right hand gently from his lap, strokes a thumb over the place Molly had wiped his tears, though the tracks have dried now.  
“You- you were watching?”  
“No-one can be strong all the time.” Caleb gives as a way of reply, and he watches as Molly’s shock slowly, suddenly, all at once dissolves and he breaks down in tears.  
Well, shit, fuck, _verdammt_ , that’s not what he intended at all.  
Molly clenches his fingers around Caleb’s. The wizard makes the executive decision to put aside his own discomfort.  
“Oh, Mollymauk,” He says softly, and pulls, gentle, “Come here.” he opens his arms out, and Molly throws himself into them, crying unrestrained against Caleb’s collarbone, one hand is clenched in the fabric of Caleb’s shirt and the other claws up his back, desperate, pulling him to Caleb, or Caleb to him, he’s basically in his lap. Caleb, somewhat awkwardly, wraps his arms around Molly too and shushes him. Without thinking, he kisses one of Molly’s horns. And finds he quite enjoys the sensation, so kisses a trail down the curled length that he can reach, moves to the top of Molly’s head instead, then catches himself and stills. His nose is buried, now, in Molly’s hair, and when he breathes in he can still faintly smell lavender from the oil Molly uses, through the buildup of grease and smoke and soot.  
Molly stays there, sobbing, for a few further minutes. Eventually, though, he untangles himself and pulls back, straightening his lapels with a semblance of his old confidence. His eyes are rimmed red, there’s a wet patch on Caleb’s shirt.  
Caleb’s hands trail when Molly pulls away, and he settles them on Molly’s leg gently. Molly clears his throat,  
“Sorry about that.” and his grin is back. Caleb nearly glares at him.  
“Mollymauk, you have just cried on me for five minutes, can you please stop lying to my _fucking_ face?”  
Molly’s grin drops. He looks downright downtrodden, guilty, and Caleb gives a sigh, strokes his thumb against Molly’s leg affectionately. Molly looks down at his hands and slowly, cautiously, threads his own fingers in between Caleb’s. Caleb lets him.  
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Caleb asks, and at the startled look Molly gives him, he hastily adds, “You don’t have to, to, to tell me, I just want to help. I just don’t want you to pretend-”  
He’s cut off,  
“I’m generally,” Molly says, short, but in a way that tells Caleb he’s thinking and suffering the admission, “pretty good, with taking the prejudices that come my way for my heritage.” He tilts his head forward, his horn jewellery jingling to make his point. “But, you are right. Nobody can be strong forever. I can’t lie forever. I just don’t… you all need me to be strong, because the rest of you are the biggest messes I’ve ever met, and I was part of the Carnival for fucks sake.”  
Caleb laughs a little. Molly smiles, too.  
“Sometimes,” Molly says, quiet, “It gets a little too much.”  
Caleb squeezes his fingers.  
“I understand.” He tells him, “And if you, if you need someone to talk to…”  
“I don’t wish to bother any of you with my issues when you need me.”  
“Mollymauk, I care about you.” Caleb says bluntly, firmly, “I love you. And it hurts me to know you’re crying at a bar when none of us can see you. More so than you ever could by being honest.”  
He meets Molly’s eyes.  
“If you need me, I’m yours. Anytime, anywhere. If you need to crawl into bed with me at three AM, then do. If you need to pull me aside so that you can stop pretending and not be alone, then do it.”  
Molly gulps, and Caleb leans in toward him.  
“Trust me.”  
Molly leans in, too.  
“I do. I promise.”  
“Prove it to me.” Caleb’s challenge is barely a whisper.  
Molly tilts his chin and presses his lips to Caleb’s, tries to stretch the five seconds it takes into an eternity of warmth, fluttered eyelids, and care, trust, love. Love.  
And it rattles around, stretches between them, unspoken as they pull back.  
“Ah, you did say you loved me.” There’s a hint of play to Molly’s voice, and Caleb rolls his eyes.  
“Am I to take it that my affections are reciprocated?”  
Molly pretends to think about it for a moment.

“Why don’t you take off those boots and that coat and get into bed with me? We’ll see in the morning.”  
Caleb sighs, affectionate, and does as he is bidden.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, if you like my work, you can support me by commenting, kudos-ing, sharing, or [buying me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/cecilantro)!


End file.
